


The Mistakes We Make

by Iolre



Category: Strange Days (1995)
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, Drinking, F/M, Fighting, Introspection, Mild Angst, Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 17:24:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1949751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iolre/pseuds/Iolre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Macy, I just want to -” She cut him off with a furious glare and he backed up a half-step, wary. It had been a long time since he had seen her so angry, and never at him.</p>
<p>“Just want to what? Keep me safe, on the sidelines?” Mace spat out, her nostrils flaring.</p>
<p>Lenny straightened up, trying a cautious smile. “It’s dangerous out there. You could get hurt.” He turned on his charm, as he much as he could, but he didn’t dare step closer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mistakes We Make

**Author's Note:**

> This was a commission for the absolutely lovely [mystradesexytimes](http://mystradesexytimes.tumblr.com)! Another take on the adorable ship that is Lenny/Mace.
> 
> I can be commissioned to do a wide variety of stuff! Details are [here](http://iolre.tumblr.com/commissions).
> 
> If you haven't seen 'Strange Days' before, I highly recommend it!

“Macy, I just want to -” She cut him off with a furious glare and he backed up a half-step, wary. It had been a long time since he had seen her so angry, and never at him.

“Just want to what? Keep me safe, on the sidelines?” Mace spat out, her nostrils flaring.

Lenny straightened up, trying a cautious smile. “It’s dangerous out there. You could get hurt.” He turned on his charm, as he much as he could, but he didn’t dare step closer.

Mace let out a half-laugh and closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. She took a deep breath and then opened her eyes. “You can’t even protect yourself,” Mace pointed out cooly, pointing a finger at Lenny.

He avoided thinking about what she said, but was brave enough to walk forward, almost into Mace’s space. “C’mon, Macy,” he wheedled. “I said I was sorry.”

“You nearly cost me my job,” she said fiercely, not nearly as distracted as he’d hoped. “Again.”

“You can’t stay there more than another week.” Lenny offered her a charming smile. “You have to keep moving.”

It was apparently the wrong thing to say, because she turned on him again. “And whose fault is that, Lenny?” Her pointed finger jabbed the air, accusatory, as she moved closer, into his space.

Lenny fell quiet, his smile disappearing from his face. It wasn’t something he could forget, not when only a month had passed. With things like that, he knew it could take years before it started to fade, and it would likely never fade completely. Macy must have seen the change in his face, for when he looked up, her eyes had softened somewhat. “I’m sorry, Macy,” he said, and this time he was sincere. He wasn’t bargaining, he wasn’t wheedling - he was honestly sorry.

It was hard to keep eye contact, to be open and honest when so much of his daily life required hiding who he was and pretending that he wasn’t. But he managed, and after a moment, she sighed, sinking into a chair. Lenny moved closer, settling onto the arm of the chair and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She was tense underneath his arm, residual anger, but he felt her relax as she leaned into him. “Why did you do it, Lenny?” Mace asked, her voice resigned.

He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “It’s a dangerous place out there, Mace,” Lenny told her. “You don’t know who could be friend or foe, not anymore.”

She tilted her head to look at him, her eyes sad and reproachful at the same time. “I don’t need to be saved, Lenny. Or to be looked after. I had to save you, remember?”

Lenny didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing. All he knew was that Macy was his, and after the night at the party, he was afraid to leave her alone. What if someone tried to take her? He had nightmares now, almost every night. It was him falling off the balcony, him with the SQUID recording device on his head, being fried until he was nothing but a vegetable. He had not used a device since that night, although he had wanted to, needed to - it was like withdrawal, and that scared him in a way little could.

Mace had said it, ages ago. You're going from one score to another and you're getting strung out and you're the only one who doesn't see it. Maybe it was something he had missed, something he hadn’t seen, but he had to make money somehow. There weren’t many options for him after being kicked off the force, and that was something she had to understand.

“I have to go to work,” Mace said, standing and untangling herself from Lenny’s grip. She turned to look at him at the same time he looked at her. “Get some sleep, Lenny.”

He watched her go, staring at the door for a long time after she had left. It was late, he could see it was dark out the window. Good. She couldn’t scold him for drinking, not if it was dark. He stood up and grabbed the bottle of vodka on the way to his bedroom. It was their fourth argument in as many weeks, and it had barely been five weeks since the fateful night at the party. Part of him wanted to wire up, relive a happier time.

The rest of him thought of finding Tick on the floor, his eyes wide, seeing nothing. Gant, staring blankly at the far wall, until Max put a bullet into his brain. Lenny had seen a lot of things, both in his time on the force and selling clips. Little beat being a vegetable, alive but never waking up. It was one thing knowing the risk in theory - he had heard of vegetables, of course - but it was another to see someone who had been walking and talking reduced to something that would do neither ever again. Lenny was rather fond of his brain, and what it came with. Max had proven how easy it was to break into his apartment, to any apartment. Lenny no longer trusted anything he didn’t have on him at all times.

Pouring himself some vodka in the glass he kept by the bed, he sat on top of the covers fully clothed and stared at the wall. There had been something between him and Mace, something that had started building a long time ago. It had come to a head at the party that night when he had kissed her and she had kissed back. He sipped the vodka, grimacing at its taste. Was that what he had come to? Sitting alone in his flat, feeling sorry for himself? It felt strange, not being wired. Not being able to step into someone else’s shoes and forget himself, just for a bit.

The vodka did a good job of dulling that, at least for a little while. He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling. Things with Faith had been good. They hadn’t fought, not much. Not until the end, when everything had crumbled rapidly and she had left him. He had not really taken much time to think about what he had done wrong - if he had done anything wrong. Maybe he hadn’t. He sipped the vodka again, downed the rest of the glass. It wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have, not with himself or anyone else.

His first fight with Macy had come a week after the kiss, when someone had broken into her home while she was gone. Zander now slept at a different relative’s each night, and Mace went days without seeing him. She didn’t complain, though - it was the only way to keep him safe. It was Lenny’s fault that her home had been broken into, he knew that much. Treating it like it was nothing but a casual setback had apparently been the wrong decision. The loss of the one place that had been safe for her and her son pushed Macy over the edge and she had ordered him out and didn’t talk to him for three days.

The second one had come two weeks later. A client had approached him, asking for a clip, while he was having a drink with Mace. She still didn’t approve of the SQUID devices, of what he did, and by the time he had gotten rid of the customer, Macy had left and didn’t return his calls. Lenny had gotten drunk that night, had been angry. How else was he supposed to earn a living? He was established, selling the clips. He had a regular clientele. There wasn’t another way for him to survive.

Lenny poured himself another glass of vodka and sipped it this time. Faith had understood, he told himself. But she left anyway, a sneaky inner voice whispered. He took another swig of the alcohol, trying to mute it out. It didn’t go away, the niggling doubt. Had he been the one to drive Faith away? Was it his fault, something he had done? More vodka, he decided. That was the only way to have this conversation. It was something he could only face once he was thoroughly drunk.

Pouring himself a third glass of vodka, Lenny was certain that he was quite drunk by that point. He drained it quickly and then laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Moving felt like it required too much effort, thinking too much coordination. He could barely remember what he had gotten drunk to think about. “Faith.” He didn’t say her name out loud, but his lips moved, saying it a few more times. Why had Faith left? It was easier to think about when he felt like he was floating on cloud nine. A soft, fluffy, vodka-infused cloud nine. Good thing Mace wasn’t here. He doubted she would approve.

No, not Mace. Faith. What had happened with Faith? Why had she left? Especially for Philo. Lenny didn’t hate him as much, not anymore. It was hard to hate a dead man when so much else had happened. He closed his eyes, trying to remember. There had been a fight the day she left. Something had happened, something that she argued was the final straw. They had been at a bar, and there had been someone trying to hit on her. Lenny had swooped in, had protected what was his.

Faith had waited until they got home before she turned icy and told him that she was no one’s property, that Lenny could not control who she talked to or what she did. Lenny had been baffled. It wasn’t the first time he had done that, stepping in and protecting what was his. Why was she so angry now? He had told her as much, and Lenny had never seen her look quite so angry before. It was a cold anger, unlike Macy’s. Faith had just stared at him, her eyes sharp like jagged ice, before she had shaken her head and told him that they were done. That she was leaving, and that Lenny couldn’t follow.

And then she had left.

Lenny’s heart hurt at the thought, at the memory he could barely remember. So much had faded. The pain of Faith’s leaving had been muted by his ability to re-watch the tapes, over and over. To remember how she loved him, how he had loved her. Whenever he had wired up, he could remember it, relive every moment of their time together. The good things, the - not the bad things, Lenny amended. But there hadn’t been many bad times, had there?

What if you just didn’t remember them? whispered that insidious little voice. Lenny was rather impressed with himself, thinking such big words while so completely drunk. He doubted that he would have been able to say the phrase out loud, even if he had wanted to. “Mebbe she wash right,” he told the ceiling, his words slurring. Lenny couldn’t even think of the last time he had been that completely drunk. No, he could. It was right after he had been kicked off the vice squad, after his life had been turned on its head.

Mace had been the one to find him, to pull him out of his funk and lecture him until he got his life together. Or as together as it had gotten, back then. He traced a crack in the ceiling with his eyes. Even back then, there had been something between them. Something he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. He lifted his head, thumped it down on the bed. It had been his fault. He wasn’t quite sure why, not yet, but all he knew was that he didn’t want to make the same mistakes with Macy.

The bigger question was whether or not Macy would have him back, even equipped with this new found knowledge. Not that he exactly planned to tell her. No, not yet. He would keep it to himself. He would start small. Not glaring at men who dared look her way, not brushing off anything she said (it was his fault she had to change jobs, his fault they had cops after them in the first place). Not interfering at her work, even when he was pretty sure that a client had crossed the line by groping her.

He had tried and had gotten a black eye, and Macy had bent the client’s hand back and told him if he tried it again, he would lose a hand. There was no more trouble from the client, although Macy had fumed the rest of the evening. That had been less than a week ago. He stared at the ceiling, thinking. Did he want to lose Mace? Was it worth it, doing things the way he had always done?

His heart sped up, his breathing quickened. Even as drunk as he was, Lenny knew distress when he felt it. No, he didn’t want to lose her. He didn’t want to give her up. Mace and he had been through a whole lot the past few months, from the cops to New Years to everything that had came since. She had given up her life to keep Zander safe, to keep herself safe - to keep Lenny safe by proxy.

Something had to change. He stared at the ceiling for several minutes, trying to think of something. Nothing immediately came to mind. He blinked sleepily, threatening to tip over into a drunken stupor. It had been a long day even without the fight. His supplier had threatened to take a bigger chunk of the profits, cutting into Lenny’s margin. It wasn’t like he made a lot of money, as it was. He wasn’t particularly inclined to share.

Maybe it was time to find a new job, Lenny told himself, the thought hazy and disconnected. Maybe. With that, he quickly fell asleep.

-

A loud noise woke him the next morning, sending shards of glass into his skull. He didn’t normally get hangovers, but drinking nearly half a bottle of vodka and no water was a surefire recipe for one. Instinctively Lenny covered his head and eyes, trying to shield himself from the sensory information. “Here,” came Macy’s too-loud voice. His head thudded, even as he cracked one eye open and saw that she had tried to keep the room dim.

Mace was handing him some pills and a bottle of water. “They’ll help with the headache,” she said quietly.

Each movement of Lenny’s body caused a stabbing pain in his skull. Fucking hangovers. “Thanks,” he said, taking the pills and tossing them into his mouth before gingerly wrapping his hands around the bottle of water.

Mace nodded, her eyes straying away and around the room. Lenny watched her look, watched her gaze linger on the liquor bottle. The half-empty bottle that had been full the day before. He sipped the water, his hands shaking as he screwed the top back on. “Bad night?” she asked, her voice gentler than he had expected. When he didn’t answer, she sighed, settling on the side of the bed. He used the situation to his advantage, scooting closer and shifting so that his head was on her lap, one of his arms covering his eyes.and protecting them from light.

She slid a hand into his hair, scraping through the strands in gentle motions. He liked it, he always had, and he leaned into the touch, wincing when it jarred the pain in his head. “About last night,” Macy started, her voice soft and pleasant to his ears instead of harsh and scolding.

Last night. Oh. Their argument, then the vodka - and then Faith. All he could remember was laying on his bed and thinking about how much he was going to screw up. Desperately he tried to remember what he had decided, what he had come up with. He didn’t let it show, though - he kept his face still, trying to pretend he was calm and serene. Turning his head slightly, he offered Macy a wan smile - the best he could give her after that much vodka. She seemed at least vaguely amused, which was better than he had expected.

I’m sorry, Lenny wanted to say. I messed up. But he didn’t. He couldn’t, not yet. He swallowed the words instead, closing his eyes and feeling Mace’s hands gently caress his head. “You try my temper sometimes, Lenny,” Mace said. She didn’t like it, no more than Lenny did. He didn’t like upsetting her. He also didn’t like to see her hurt. “I’m no delicate flower.”

“I know,” Lenny mumbled. Words were hard. Speaking hurt, made his brain cringe even more in his skull. All he wanted was a few hours in a dark room with no noise. Macy, however - Macy was a good substitute. “I won’t - I won’t do it again.”

That got a reaction. Mace stopped, and Lenny could feel her eyes on him. They stayed like that for several seconds, Lenny’s head in her lap, her staring intently at him. He didn’t dare open his eyes and see what was on her face. It wasn’t that he was scared - of course he wasn’t - but part of him was afraid of seeing pity, or irritation, or - something that didn’t belong on her face. Instead, she quietly resumed what she had been doing. He let out a contented sigh, relaxing.

“I can’t spend all day doin’ this,” she told him, seemingly amused. “I’m going to go see Zander.”

Why did you come here first?, Lenny wanted to ask. But he didn’t. He smiled up at her, shaky. “Go,” he said. “I’m gonna sleep some more.” Gently Mace eased out from underneath him, laying his head back down on the bed.

Lenny cracked his eyes open as she stood, dressed immaculately in her plain day clothes. “You look beautiful,” he said. She cocked an eyebrow in his direction.

“You sure you’re not still drunk?” Mace asked.

“Positive,” Lenny replied, holding up his hand in an a-okay sign. “Tell Zander hi for me.”

Mace paused for a moment. “He misses you.”

I miss him, too, Lenny didn’t say. He simply nodded, ignoring the spike of pain. Mace leaned down, smoothing some of his bangs aside before giving him a gentle kiss. It wasn’t much (and Lenny was thankful, especially with the way his head felt), but it was something, something that proved that she remembered and still cared. She pulled back and he offered her a crooked grin. “Later, Macy,” he managed.

“Get some sleep, Lenny,” she said, her voice wonderful and familiar. Lenny liked it, her voice. It wasn’t annoying, or too high pitched. It was just right, and completely Mace. He listened as Mace walked out of the bedroom and out of the flat, locking it with the key she had. Part of him dwelled on what that meant, her having a key, but he didn’t trust anyone else to have his spare, not anymore.

Not that a spare stopped anyone. His thoughts flashed back to Max, back to what had happened - what both he and Mace had gone through to bring justice to a murderer. There had been a cash prize, yes, but it hadn’t been much, not nearly enough to keep either him or Macy afloat for long. Lenny sighed, his eyes closing as he relaxed into his mattress. Sleep. He was certain when he woke up, things would be better.

Hopefully.

-

When Lenny woke up, things weren’t better, but he couldn’t really say that he was surprised. His head still throbbed dully, although the water had helped some. The capped bottle had ended up somewhere underneath his side. Extracting it, he took another drink, ignoring the taste now that it was warm. Hydration was more important than whether or not the water tasted good. He chugged the rest of it before sitting up and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

At least he knew what day it was. His calendar was somewhere, it would tell him what he had planned for the day. If he was lucky he hadn’t missed anything on accident. He cared, but he didn’t want to care. It was an image he had to keep up, something he had to cultivate carefully to attract the right clientele. That wasn’t something he cared about, not right this second. He had something more important. Macy.

He had been too chicken earlier, unable to speak what had to be spoken. But it was something he had to do, something that had to be said, or else he ran the risk of losing her forever. That wasn’t something he could tolerate. He grabbed his mobile off his nightstand, staring at it for a few moments, his stomach knotting in anticipation.

Her number was saved in his speed-dial, and it was seconds before it started ringing. “Hello?” she said coolly.

“Macy?” Lenny asked.

“Lenny.” There was caution now, a wariness, a what-have-you-done-now that had been born of far too many late-night calls needing favors or help.

“You free tonight?” he said. I want to see you, he didn’t say. He couldn’t. It was putting too much into words, too much he didn’t want to speak. Not yet.

“I have to work,” she told him, and there was a hint of disappointment in her voice. His heart fell. ”What do you need?”

“Nothin’.” Nothing at all. He held the phone to his ear for a few more seconds, trying to think of something to say.

“You need a ride somewhere?” Mace asked, not unkindly.

“Yeah.” Gratefully, Lenny took the excuse. He could make up something later.

“I’ll swing by to get you before I pick up my client at seven. Dress nice, and none of your SQUID stuff,” she said sternly.

“As you wish, Macy,” he said, teasing now. He winked, even though she couldn’t see him.

“Don’t be late.” There was a smile in her voice, he could hear it. It was one of his favourite smiles, he thought, where she didn’t want to smile but she couldn’t stop it. The phone call ended with a soft click, and he closed his phone and placed it on his bed. He took his time getting dressed, careful to pick his favourite clothes. Leather pants, a smart shirt - he even did his hair, making sure he looked nice.

It was ludicrous, really - Macy had seen him with a knife wound in his back and bloody - but still. For some reason it felt important. He even put on a little bit of cologne. Eventually he stood in front of his mirror, making sure that he looked sharp. A quick glance at the clock showed him that he still had two hours before Macy was to arrive. His gaze went to his bed, to the box he knew was under it, with the rig he had kept and some tapes. He wanted - he needed it - but he told himself no and turned away. Memories were meant to fade. No matter how much he wanted to keep them.

His eyes strayed to the closet down the hall. He hadn’t dug in there in years, since moving to the shabby flat he now lived in. Still, when he had moved in he had brought as much as he had dared from his old place. He went to the closet, pulling down box after box until he found the one he wanted. It was a VCR player, old and shabby but still in working condition. There was a handful of movies, too, and he handled the tapes gingerly as he examined them to see their titles.

Lenny carried the box out to his living room and set it down near the tiny TV in the corner. It wasn’t even plugged in. He frowned down at the cords in the box, realizing he wasn’t sure how to hook the machine up to the TV. SQUID devices were much easier, he thought ruefully. It took him a good quarter of an hour to hook the right cables up to the right places, and finally he had a picture on his screen.

It was strange, not nearly as vivid as being wired, but there was a nostalgia that he liked. He picked a movie and slid it into the player, wincing at the various noises it made as it decided whether or not to accept his offering. Eventually it seemed satisfied, for the previews started to play. He flopped down on the couch, his eyes glued to the screen. It wasn’t the same, nothing would be the same, but it felt right.

All that was missing was someone by his side.

The credits were playing when he opened his eyes again. Macy was standing over him, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes unreadable. “Hello,” he told her, offering her a smile. He was happy to see her, that was for sure. He had missed her.

“Sleep well?” She angled her head down slightly, looking at him on the couch. His grin grew wider.

Lenny swung himself into a sitting position, then stood and dusted off his clothes. “Yup,” he said, sounding more cheerful than he had in days. Things felt right, like they were, even when he knew what was coming. Not that he enjoyed talking, he really didn’t, but he knew he had to.

“You watched a movie,” she said next. Her eyes flickered to the VCR player, then back to him. He couldn’t read them, but that was okay.

“Yup.” He winked. Mace stared at him for a second, scanning him - trying to read him. Trying to see what was the hidden meaning underneath, what his actual motivation was. “Nothing to it, Macy,” he said, moving forward until he was in her space.

She didn’t complain, though, just angled her face so that she could watch him. He reached out and cupped her face, his thumb smoothing over her cheek in a gentle caress. “You’re not Faith,” he said, his voice soft. His stomach fluttered like it was full of butterflies, he felt too warm, and his heart was thundering in his ears. Part of him was scared, part of him was relieved - a confusing epiphany.

“Of course I’m not,” Macy said, her tone brooking no argument. But she didn’t pull away. Instead she looked back, looked into his eyes as he did not flinch or pull away.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and although he had said it before, so many times and for so many reasons, this time it was different. This time he understood why he was sorry, what it had meant to do what he did, and how he could not do it in the future. It held a magnitude that it had not held before. It meant something, something deeper than he could have ever anticipated.

She looked at him for a long time, holding his gaze, and time seemed suspended between them. He waited, hoping, but oddly at peace. No matter what happened, there were mistakes he would never make again, and that was a victory of its own. Then the corner of her lips tilted up in a crooked smile, and her face changed, relaxing. “Good,” she murmured, tilting her head slightly so that their foreheads touched.

He didn’t say anything, but his lips curved up as he turned so that he could press a gentle kiss to her lips, his thumb stroking her cheek. “Good,” he echoed.

They stood like that, close together, breathing the same air, the clock ticking in the background. “I have to go get my client,” Macy said, her voice cool. “Need a ride?”

Lenny laughed, smiled, and kissed her softly. “Yes,” he said. “Always.”


End file.
